


Unexpected Kindness

by linndechir



Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Developing Relationship, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:42:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23271166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linndechir/pseuds/linndechir
Summary: Jonathan has had a very long week. For once McCullum doesn't seem determined to make it worse.
Relationships: Geoffrey McCullum/Jonathan Reid
Comments: 6
Kudos: 187
Collections: All The Nice Things Flash Exchange 2020





	Unexpected Kindness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wednesday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wednesday/gifts).



Jonathan had barely sat down on the small cot he kept in his room at Pembroke when a scent caught his attention – all the way from the back entrance of the building, too far away for him to notice had it been anyone else. But he could have picked Geoffrey out of a busy crowd without even trying to at this point. He didn’t know if it was simple familiarity, or if his blood really did smell better than other people’s. 

Right now the scent of it was overwhelming, even amidst all the other different smells in the hospital. It had been days since he’d had an opportunity to drink anything at all – a large industrial accident at a factory nearby had meant many injured, a lot of operations that demanded both his skills and a lot of blood transfusions. He’d worked longer hours than he had since the war, at times even operating well into the day, despite fatigue and dizziness dulling his senses once the sun was up. He was – tired, in a way he hadn’t thought himself capable of being. Tired and hungry, and he wasn’t entirely sure if seeing Geoffrey right now would be a welcome reprieve or the last thing he needed. These days things were far more … relaxed between them than they’d once been, although considering that Geoffrey had tried to kill him several times, that was quite a low bar. Occasionally Geoffrey could even be good company.

Jonathan considered getting back to his feet when he heard Geoffrey’s steps approaching the door, but then he decided that he couldn’t be bothered. Half the time they ended up on the cot anyway these days.

“You look like shit, Reid,” were the first words out of Geoffrey’s mouth once he’d stepped inside Jonathan’s office, without knocking, of course. Jonathan had wondered more than once if he was simply being rude on purpose, or if it was merely his way of acknowledging that he knew Jonathan heard and smelt him coming anyway.

Geoffrey only glanced at him briefly before shrugging out of his coat and jacket, throwing them carelessly over a chair before he went to the sink to wash the blood off his face and hands. So he’d come fresh from the hunt, the scent of his sweat still clinging to his skin, his blood still pumping faster through his veins. It was only skal blood he was washing off his skin, though, not his own – no injuries to speak of, nothing that required Jonathan’s attention. Jonathan tore his gaze away, tried to think about something other than Geoffrey’s steady heartbeat. Like his words – Jonathan didn’t look often into mirrors these days, no more than necessary to ensure his appearance was presentable. He didn’t particularly like _seeing_ himself – the red gleam in his eyes, the waxy shine of his skin, the way his veins stood out. And he certainly hadn’t been aware that he could, in his current state, “look like shit”. That it was possible for his skin to reflect that he was tired and overworked and so, so hungry. 

“It’s been a long week,” he said, keeping his voice even. He’d had worse, far worse, both as an Ekon and back when he’d still been human. A few rats would manage to keep the hunger at bay until he had time to hunt for someone who deserved it, no matter how much eating vermin disgusted him every time.

Geoffrey had finished washing up, the sleeves off his shirt rolled up to his elbow, his cheeks reddened from the cold water. He was studying Jonathan with a calm, calculating look that reminded Jonathan of before – before they’d begun hunting together every now and then, before Geoffrey had started dropping by Jonathan’s office or even his home with bleeding wounds and all but demanded Jonathan patch him up, and certainly long before those visits had first ended in Jonathan’s bed. Despite Geoffrey’s injuries it had usually been angry and rough, a desperate kind of passion made more frantic by how much neither of them _wanted_ to desire the other. It hadn’t quite become a habit at this point, but it was happening more often than not when they saw each other. Often enough that Jonathan found himself disappointed on those nights when Geoffrey left without pulling him close first, without kissing him and shoving him into the nearest wall, or all but dragging Jonathan on top of him.

Now he stopped right in front of Jonathan, frowning and far more serious than Jonathan was in a mood to deal with. They still argued – for good reasons sometimes, and because Geoffrey was a belligerent prick at others – and Jonathan was already steeling himself for it. He wasn’t at all prepared for what Geoffrey actually said.

“When was the last time you’ve fed?” he demanded more than asked, and Jonathan was too surprised to point out to him that animals “fed” and that, no matter how often Priwen claimed otherwise, he wasn’t some kind of beast. Instead he just waved a hand dismissively.

“There wasn’t exactly any blood to spare recently,” he explained. He knew Geoffrey disapproved of that as well, but as far as Jonathan was concerned, there was really no harm done when the blood wasn’t needed elsewhere. He couldn’t live off rats forever, and there were far fewer murderers and similar scum around than one might think. Jonathan’s lips quirked into a tired smile, baring his fangs without even intending to – they ached somehow, a thoroughly unpleasant feeling that didn’t compare to anything his human body had ever felt. “There’s no danger of me attacking unsuspecting patients, if you’re concerned for their safety.”

“No more than usual.” Geoffrey finally looked away, then loosened a knife from its sheath on his boot. Jonathan’s smile widened a little – no more than usual meaning not at all, or else Geoffrey would hardly have tolerated him. He wasn’t particularly worried about the knife either – it wasn’t much of a weapon if Geoffrey actually planned on hurting him. His mind felt a little sluggish, though. Too many hours spent awake during the day, too little fresh blood coursing through his veins. He didn’t think any of those things could still kill him, or even give him any kind of … health issues, but he did feel slow and weak. It had become such an unfamiliar feeling.

So he didn’t quite manage to react before Geoffrey had slid into his lap, strong thighs straddling Jonathan, the warmth of his body dizzying, so close that Jonathan could almost taste the salt of his skin. Wanting him had almost become as natural at this point as wanting blood, and yet he wasn’t entirely sure he was … awake enough for any of the things they usually did. But before he could open his mouth, Geoffrey gave him another one of those calculating looks, and then brought the knife to his own forearm to slice it open.

Immediately the scent overwhelmed Jonathan’s senses, blotting out everything else there was in the world, every sound but the pounding of Geoffrey’s heart, any sight but that of his blood coursing through his body, leaking out of him on his pale forearm, thick red rivulets flowing from the long cut. Jonathan moaned with want, with hunger, and dug his hands into the sheets of the bed to stop himself from surging up, from grabbing Geoffrey and wrestling him to the ground and draining every last delicious drop from his body.

And then, from one moment to the next, he could taste him – the sweet, metallic taste of healthy blood, all that strength and determination in Geoffrey he couldn’t help but admire, and underneath it all that fine thread of Arthur’s blood that still lingered in his veins. It took him a moment to realise that Geoffrey had pressed his bleeding wrist against Jonathan’s lips – offering himself up, giving him something Jonathan had no doubt he’d never give any other leech willingly.

His other hand grabbed Jonathan’s hair, firm and tight as he growled, “Don’t bite down, leech. You bite me, I’ll rip your fangs out. You behave, I let you drink your fill.”

Part of Jonathan wanted to object – that it was unnecessary, that he could wait, that he didn’t need any of this – but he found himself unable to pull his lips away from Geoffrey’s wrist. His hands came up to grab his arm and keep it right where he wanted it. There wasn’t too much blood flowing from the cut, the trickle slow enough that Jonathan could genuinely savour the taste. The sweetness as he licked it from Geoffrey’s wrist, his tongue feeling the way his pulse accelerated and pushed the blood out faster. He was so delicious Jonathan’s whole body sang with it, and within mere moments he felt his strength returning, while the unbearable ache in his fangs and his tongue and his fingertips finally ebbed away.

He couldn’t have said for how long he drank, or how much he took from him, his senses still reduced to just that – Geoffrey’s pulse and the taste of his blood and the grip of strong fingers in Jonathan’s hair. It was only when that grip tightened and Geoffrey yanked him back that Jonathan opened his eyes again and blinked up at him. Only then that he noticed that Geoffrey was breathing heavily, his eyes glassy with something that wasn’t only blood loss, and his cock was hard between them. Jonathan would have wondered if his blood-addled brain was imagining things, at least until a brief look of shame crossed Geoffrey’s features. Nothing worse than that for a hunter, he supposed, to feel arousal at becoming prey.

“That’s enough,” Geoffrey said hoarsely. Jonathan licked the last drops of blood from his lips, savoured the lingering taste in his mouth, then nodded. He rubbed his thumb gently over Geoffrey’s forearm.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said. “I was … I wasn’t a danger to anyone, you must know that.”

Geoffrey scoffed, but he didn’t pull his still bleeding arm out of Jonathan’s grasp. He didn’t even seem to think about it, and Jonathan wondered just how much trust that took from a man such as him.

“This wasn’t some idiotic self-sacrifice, Reid. You just … looked like you needed it.” He seemed surprised by his own words and lowered his gaze, and Jonathan only just managed to suppress the smile pulling at his lips. He didn’t think Geoffrey would appreciate it.

“I did. Thank you,” he said instead. That seemed safe enough. Geoffrey didn’t feel quite as feverish warm in his arms anymore, or maybe it was that Jonathan’s own body wasn’t stiff and cold as ice now. He was careful as he petted Geoffrey’s arm, the soft pale skin above the cut. “You should let me clean and bandage that. And then I would very much like it if you stayed a little longer.”

The blood had lifted the exhaustion from his mind and his body, and Jonathan filed it away as useful information that it really did seem able to cure just about any ill for his changed body, even ones he would have assumed required some amount of rest. But right now he didn’t care all that much, not with Geoffrey still in his lap, bleeding and hard and … unusually kind for his standards. Oh, of course he still frowned about it and looked like it would only take one ill-advised word for him to start another argument, but Jonathan was learning to navigate all the pricklier edges of his personality. He’d clearly been doing something right, too, judging by what Geoffrey had done for him tonight.

“I didn’t come here just to feed you my blood, leech, so yes, I’m going to stay,” Geoffrey said, and somehow managed to make agreeing to Jonathan’s suggestion sound like he was picking a fight. This time Jonathan couldn’t keep the smile off his face. 

“Of course.” He thought about having Geoffrey back in his lap later, once he’d bandaged his wound, with both of them naked and Geoffrey tense and shivering on his cock, his eyes closing even though he’d never admit that he trusted his _leech_ enough to let him out of sight, his fingers digging into Jonathan’s shoulders, his lips gasping softly while his blood thundered through his veins. Jonathan had grown used to desiring him, to longing for his company in bed when he hadn’t seen him in a while, but in that moment, tasting on his tongue the most precious thing Geoffrey could have possibly offered him, Jonathan felt a fondness well up inside him that he hadn’t been prepared for. Something that was more than grudging respect and physical desire. Something that made him wish Geoffrey wouldn’t only stay long enough for both of them to sate their urges, and then disappear back into the night until the next time he could think of a good enough excuse to come by.

Jonathan kissed him then – close-mouthed and careful, because he didn’t think Geoffrey would appreciate the taste of his own blood, but with a lingering tenderness he wouldn’t have allowed himself before tonight. He wasn’t even sure if he would have wanted it before tonight. For a moment Geoffrey was completely still, as if frozen in surprise, but then he returned the kiss, his tight grip on Jonathan’s hair loosening until he simply stroked it gently. 

Just this evening, when Jonathan had risen from his cot with the setting sun, he’d wondered how much worse his week could get. The last thing he had expected was for it to get so much better.


End file.
